


Coffee

by KenwaysFrye



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Coffee, F/M, Gavin gets himself a friend, I'm Bad At Titles, M/M, i dont know and i dont care, i think he deserves to be happy, im a sucker for this kind of gavin, omg did i gavin right?, the reader is from a rich family, things for gavin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-06-05 13:53:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15172112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KenwaysFrye/pseuds/KenwaysFrye
Summary: Gavin thinks he might know what happiness is after he meets you.





	Coffee

Gavin thinks he might know what happiness is after he meets you.

You're looking for a spot to sit down in a sea of people at the café, and he has to wonder what in the world would possess you to walk over to his table when there's a plentiful number of single men scattered across the patio. He's aware that he doesn't look like a million dollars with a hangover from Hell itself and bags underneath his eyes that have bags, but you don't seem to mind at all as you ask if the seat across him is taken. Instead of answering you, he lifts his coffee cup to his lips and takes a generous swig while you take it as an affirmation that no, he doesn't mind. Sitting there in your presence makes him wish he'd decided to follow his gut instinct and remain sober that night, and a returning feeling of worthlessness that persuaded him to drink anyway makes his throat feel so tight he's unable to speak.

You tell him your name after a small sip of your latte, mentioning the weather is supposed to be incredibly hot this afternoon and pull out your phone to send a text. Gavin takes this moment to really observe the oddity that might very well be you, from your hair to your skin and the slight tilt of your lip at something someone responds with. He's both amazed and embarrassed how easily "my name is Gavin" slips out despite the existence of a persistent pressure that should make it hard to speak, but surprisingly does not.

Your head tilts up in response to his admission, and you send him a pleasant smile as you put away your phone. You excuse your rude behavior with the phone as a necessary evil, as your family is notorious for worrying too much if you're gone for a longer time than you say you'll be. Gavin says he doesn't mind, and this is probably the only time he  _means_ it.

Conversation flows amicably, and the more he interacts with you the more he realizes that his scowl is turning into a small smile. You tell him that you're from a rich family and you own five androids, while he admits that he lives paycheck to paycheck like most people do. You give him an amused pout, tease him like he's a good friend and pause suddenly.

Gavin thinks he understands whiplash.

You dig into your bag with an energy unrivaled and successfully find crumpled paper and a pen, scribble something aggressively on it and then you're giving it to him.

Your phone number.

"I'll be busy for the rest of the day," You tell him with an over dramatic sigh. "But I'm not opposed to the idea of hanging out with you tonight anyway."

"Um, yeah," He says, stunned. "Yeah, sure."  
  
Once you're gone, Gavin pinches himself on the arm. Repeatedly. This light feeling in his chest is something out of a dream, and he doesn't know if he likes it.


End file.
